The End of the Tunnel
by CornerstoneKey
Summary: Lancer notices very odd behaviors in a young boy named Daniel Fenton and is more than determined to get to the bottom of it...for Daniel's sake.
1. Predicament

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 1

-Predicament-

_"Sometimes a problem will lead you to what you're looking for."_

The young freshman slowly lowered himself into his seat beside his two friends, Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. He leaned forward, careful not to let his back touch the back of the seat. His baby blue eyes, though forever sullen, were brimming with eagerness to absorb as much knowledge as he could. You simply had to see past the dull, near-lifeless look to his eyes. Behind them was a boy who seemed trapped and unable to come out of himself, a boy who was tortured within but wouldn't let anyone know. He summoned enormous amounts of energy every day to act like he was perfectly fine.

But Lancer caught glimpses of him when the boy thought he was alone. He didn't have any life to him. His mouth would set in a depressed frown and he would stare at the world through half-lidded eyes. Even on beautiful days he would sit under the bleachers on both sides of Casper High's football field. His feet would scrape some of the dirt as he let himself down, making sure to always be under the shade, where he seemed most comfortable. Then he would hang his head halfway down and let his arms go slack. He would always look anything but relaxed.

In fact, he was the opposite: Always alert, always trying to tune into his surroundings...just so he could put up another facade and lie about why he was sitting down looking like he hadn't slept in weeks.

He did actually look like that even if he pretended to be hyper. When he dropped his little act, he was weak and vulnerable. He had dark circles under his eyes; from stress or lack of rest Lancer didn't know. The teacher was awed that he hadn't passed out yet. Lately he had seen the boy weakening despite his efforts to look fine. He still used the bathroom more than any other student, but he was sluggish in his movements and lethargic during class. Sometimes he would hang his head down to pretend he was studying or reviewing something. But Lancer always noticed how hard it was for him to force his eyes to stay open.

Another thing about him was that he was constantly disrupting class with a snarling stomach. He was getting skinny. It was normal for a teenager to be thin given their high metabolism, but he was getting _very_ skinny. There were times when the poor boy had to drop his head onto his desk and try to lift it up again. The shocking thing was, his friends didn't seem so concerned about this strange behavior. It was clear to anyone that his student wasn't eating enough, and probably lacking the necessary amount of sleep just to keep him functional.

Today was one of his worse days. And yes, he did have days worse than usual; and his usual was never very good at all. His worse days consisted of him hanging onto consciousness by a thread. He still tried to keep up his energy, bless his heart, but just couldn't do it. His feet dragged, his head hung, and his arms would hang flaccid by his side. His hair would even lose its normal sheen. In short, he looked dull.

But he never complained.

"Daniel," Lancer said as he walked under the bleachers to where his student sat. "I would like to have a talk with you after school today concerning your recent (which was never recent at all) behavior."

He could only watch with sympathy as the freshman blanched. Why was he doing that though? Was he keeping a secret from everyone? Possibly. He looked as though he suffered from anorexia. That could be his secret. If not, then what exactly _was_ he hiding?

"Um...y-yes, sir," he replied in a small voice.

**A/N**

**Idk... Prologue or something. All I know is that the rest of the chapters will be longer. I wouldn't expect a long story out of this. Just something simple. Right now it's from Lancer's perspective (not POV because this isn't first person). You'll see some of Danny's perspective too, just not right now.**


	2. Proven Right

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 2

-Proven Right-

_"When people assume they are right, most often they are wrong."  
_

Lancer attempted to alphabetize the latest homework assignments and noticed that, per usual, Daniel's was not turned in. More often than not, the freshman failed to complete his work, and if he ever did complete it, he never turned it in. To see his name on an assignment was always a pleasant surprise; he didn't want to fail the boy, especially given whatever circumstances took place behind his closed door.

The teacher heard the door to his classroom open and his student trudged inside, all too clearly exhausted from another school day. He wanted to go home, probably in hopes of resting for a while.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton," Lancer greeted him. "Please, have a seat."

Daniel's eyes slowly moved from the ground to Lancer as he chose a seat from one of the desks and pulled it up to Lancer's desk, sitting directly across from him and reluctantly prepared for a talk about his behavior.

Lancer set aside his papers and folded his arms on the desk.

Clearing his throat, he began the conversation. "It's come to my attention that you can't seem to focus in class."

The boy opened his mouth to speak but Lancer interjected with, "Apparently outside is no better for you than inside. I need to know what's causing you to act this way, Daniel. You used to be such a bright pupil; I knew I could always expect a good mark on your assignments. Then one day your grades began to lower. That was fine; you weren't failing and kept up at very least a C. But now, Daniel, your grades are the worst I've ever seen. I'm aware that you want to learn and want to make better grades, but I know that any extra credit I give you would only be incomplete and probably never touched. You don't turn in your work, unlike before.

"It's not only about your work and grades. I'm interested to know what goes on outside of your school life. I know something has to be going on, and before you say anything to object, I can start listing off the strange things I've noticed beyond spontaneously shivering and having to use the restroom often. Two weeks ago you came into my classroom with a terrible limp. It healed quickly enough, thank goodness, but I couldn't help but wonder what happened."

Daniel grew extremely edgy and nervous. He began to fidget with his fingers and chewing on his lower lip. He would no longer look his teacher in the eye, and Lancer had no intention of forcing him or even asking him to do so. But he continued speaking anyway.

"You're completely exhausted, Daniel," he said with much concern. "I don't know why that is, but as your teacher and as a person of higher authority, I'll give you fifty points extra credit for my class on one condition: You have to stay home all day tomorrow and use that time to eat and sleep. You need to take care of yourself and I can't have you passing out in school. That's my assignment to you; to help you focus. Think of it as a study tactic. You'll be rested and well fed, so when you come back to school the day after next, you'll be able to take notes and learn like you used to. So to recap, in case you were too tired to comprehend what I told you, my extra credit assignment is for you to take a day off from school."

"No!" he shouted, jumping up and finally looking his teacher in the eye.

Lancer cocked his head. "You would turn down fifty points to your lowest grade just for staying home?"

Daniel slowly let himself back down into the seat and went back to his quiet, nervous nature. "I-I mean... My parents won't like that. Besides, I'm okay, Mr. Lancer, I really am. Trust me. I'll get rest tonight and eat a big breakfast in the morning. Then I won't be tired or hungry. I-If I promise to do that, can you let me come to school tomorrow?"

Thinking about the teenager's reaction to the two things every teenager should _love,_ he knew for sure that there was something very wrong going on with him. Here was a teenage boy, fourteen years of age, who was clearly starving and severely deprived of sleep. He was barely functioning anymore yet he immediately declined the golden opportunity to sleep, eat, and just for doing that, earn fifty extra points to his lowest grade. Fifty! That was plenty to motivate a teenager to be lazy.

"Why are you so set on coming to school?" Lancer asked.

For a moment young Daniel had a blank expression, but quickly recovered his fake, 'I-am-feeling-on-top-of-the-world-today!' expression. He had been making up an excuse; Lancer had been teaching long enough to know when a student was about to lie when they got that giveaway look on their faces, the one that popped up without their ever knowing about it.

The boy cleared his throat, even though there was nothing to actually clear, and answered, "Attendance. I know I use the bathroom a lot and s-sometimes I skip school altogether. I-I really should come back tomorrow to keep my attendance record in check."

The teacher smiled warmly, knowing how good of an actor Daniel had become over the past four months. Had he not been stuttering so much, he might've actually pulled off another act.

"Well," he said, "I personally think health takes priority over attendance. However, if you're so worried about your attendance record, I'll make sure to mark tomorrow off as 'on time'. I won't be lying because by staying home, you're following the instructions I gave you."

Daniel vigorously shook his head. "But, Mr. Lancer, I-"

"Danny!" the teacher barked.

Said teenager shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the use of his nickname rather than his full name, the one most teachers called him by. Normally if someone had a frequently used nickname, their full name became their "trouble name" and was only used when in trouble. For Mr. Lancer, however, the tactic was reversed.

Lancer sighed heavily to settle himself. "You can argue all day and all night, but know this: I am _not_ taking no for an answer. My assigned work to you was to go home and relax for one entire day. If I see you in school tomorrow, I will fail you on this assignment; and right now you should focus more on your grades than on your attendance record. Do you want to fail, Daniel?"

The teenager shook his head, this time more slowly. "No, sir...I don't..."

"Do you want to go home and _rest_?"

This time he nodded his head but, surprisingly enough, hesitated to answer. And even when he did it was nothing more than a nervous fumble. "I...I mean... O-Of cour- Um..." He sighed and hung his head in defeat. "Yes, sir...I do..."

Lancer's brows furrowed as he realized that there was a reason Daniel wanted to attend school tomorrow. He was positive that that reason went much deeper than a simple record. Perhaps it wasn't a very good idea to force his pupil to stay home when he clearly didn't want to, but a growing boy like him needed sleep, food, and the chance to lounge around (the boy couldn't sleep forever, so relaxing on the couch would help build his energy back up for when he came back to school; and having all-day access to snacks would undoubtedly help him gain a little weight).

The teacher could imagine the teenager wolfing down food like there was no tomorrow. He could imagine him flopping exhausted on his bed and conking out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Maybe it sounded strange, or even as the kids say it, "creeper-ish", but Lancer would actually like to see (with his own eyes) Daniel going about occupying himself with normal teenage activities. It would help to put his mind at ease and assure him that the boy really would be okay.

But if there was one thing he had to hand to that boy, it was that he was overly determined to come to school each day. That had to be the very reason he acted (or tried to) like one of the most focused and...

Hold on now... What was that on his neck?

Lancer pretended to casually move a tad to the left in his chair. Thankfully the boy was either zoning out again or didn't notice him.

The teacher's eyes widened. There was no doubt; the dark spot on Daniel's neck ran down under the collar of his shirt. Only part of it was exposed, which was probably the reason why Lancer had overlooked it, but this spot... The bruise was livid and horrible. It looked painful, and it made Lancer question whether or not his student was experiencing any pain or soreness moving his head.

It strengthened his resolve to _make_ Daniel rest.

**A/N**

**Well, I guess the wpc will fluctuate. Ummm... Well, I have to thank those who took the time to review, so thank you.  
**


	3. What Meets the Eye

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 3

-What Meets the Eye-

_"Those who are invited into another's home often don't see the blood they stand in."  
_

Lancer didn't see the boy in school the next day, meaning that he got those fifty extra credit points. It also meant that Lancer wanted to validate his student's "completed" assignment. If that boy happened to have gone anywhere else but home, the assignment would be marked as incomplete and he would fail. If, however, the freshman stayed home to get a little rest and hopefully a little meat on those bones, then the assignment would be complete and no matter what he did at that house all day (so long as he was in it), he would pass with a 100% grade and earn those fifty extra credits points. If only the boy knew how much he needed them.

The teacher rounded the corner to face a rather..._eccentric_ building labeled in a huge neon sign, "Fenton Works". There was no need for an address with anyone of the name "Fenton", being as their home actually laid claims to whom it belonged.

He walked up the front steps and, with an assured smile on his face, went to knock on the door...until something stopped him, his knuckles mere centimeters away from the wood. He took his hand down and pressed his ear to the door, trying to confirm having heard some sort of yelling coming from the inside.

It was only a two second wait before a shrill scream met his eardrums, which almost seemed prepared to shatter just in case it got any louder or higher-pitched. He couldn't make out whose voice it was, or even what was said, but he swore to the high heavens it sounded like, "I'M NOT!"

The smile dropped from his face to be replaced with a look of extreme concern. His concern grew to worry as he heard a giant _THUMP!_ somewhere inside the house.

Hoping it was merely an item of little importance, he tentatively knocked on the door.

Everything fell eerily silent.

It took a few moments, but the door was finally answered and a large smiling man in a bright orange hazmat jumpsuit welcomed him in.

"You must be Mr. Lancer!" he greeted.

As Daniel's father escorted him inside, he tried to find any sign of violence, be it a mere dispute or an all-out war. The TV was unharmed; in fact it was clean as a whistle. The ceiling fan seemed in tact and, again, clean. The coffee table? Looked great. The only thing that seemed a tad out of place was the couch cushions. They were crumpled and one was even hanging out. His first thought was that Daniel had stayed home and rested, just like he was supposed to. His second thought was to listen to his gut; something wasn't entirely right here...

Just a little ways off, Daniel himself stood stiff and unmoving. In no way had he gotten rest. If he didn't rest, it was doubtful that he had even eaten (not much if at all). The boy had glazed eyes and his chest jerked as he breathed. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, nor did he seem to be in deep thought. He also didn't look much like he was in a trance. He just...stood there.

Upon further inspection, the freshman's skin was nearly white (as opposed to its usual tan color). His pupils were wide; a sure sign of intense emotion. He stood very stiffly, as if every muscle in his body was contracted and unwilling to relax. He was actually in a frozen stance; it looked a bit like he had been ready to do something but had put his entire body on pause. His arms were spread slightly and looking closer, his hands were slightly shaking. His knees were slightly bent, his legs spread and his figure tilted forward a bit.

This looked worse than when Lancer caught the boy around the football team. At least then he was moving. He could be cowering or running or even flinching, but he was still moving. Now it seemed as though a taxidermist had come along and stuffed him. The only sign of life within the boy was his irregular breathing.

Pulling away from the boy's father, Lancer walked up to Daniel, who barely responded. All he did was timidly look up to meet his teacher's gaze. It wasn't a matter of him being rude, it was a matter of the fact that this was all he could do.

"Daniel?" he said softly.

His student swallowed hard.

"Yes?" he croaked.

Just then, the light of Casper High walked through the door. Jasmine Fenton halted when she saw Mr. Lancer. She quickly looked at her younger brother and began to pale.

"Danny?" she breathed.

The boy snapped his head toward her and, suddenly able to move again, ran up to her. "Jazz! I...um..." An excuse in the making, the teacher noted. "I-I need help with my homework!"

His sister curtly nodded and ran off to her room, dragging her brother with her.

Danny seemed a little _too_ willing to go into a female's room...

"Mr. Lancer," the boy's father said. "Why not stay and have dinner? We have leftover pasta. I made it myself; care to try some?"

The teacher was immediately pulled out of his thoughts concerning Daniel's odd behavior and replied, "I should actually be going. Although, I would like to have a discussion with you about your son."

The large man nodded and led his guest into the living room, a very serious expression plastered onto his face.

The two of them sat on the couch, one on either corner, and faced each other. It was Lancer who started off the conversation.

"He's been extremely fatigued lately and honestly, withdrawn. He doesn't know about this but every chance he gets, he rests under the bleachers of the school's football field. He's incredibly thin..."

"Ah, he is a little off lately. I wish I knew what was going on but he won't talk to me. Danny won't eat or sleep even though I've tried to make him," the man said.

"I see..." Mr. Lancer mumbled. "Is he depressed? Has he ever been unhappy about something?"

The man buried his head in one hand and replied, "His mother, Maddie, passed away in a car accident. He escaped unharmed, thankfully, but Maddie didn't."

That roused a bit of suspicion on the teacher's part. Didn't Daniel's father _just_ say he didn't know what was wrong with his son? Now he was suddenly bringing up the fact that his mother had died. The boy didn't need to explain anything to be depressed about it. Something was going on here, and it was about time he found out what it was.

His student would know the answer. As a teacher, he would only need to ask him after school.

"Mr. Fenton, I really must be going now, but could you do me a favor and tell Daniel that I would like to speak with him after school tomorrow?"

The man nodded and smiled his farewells as Lancer walked out the door.

Something was going on and it wasn't an everyday problem. The house itself didn't feel comfortable enough to stay in despite being a guest in it. Something bigger was taking place in that house... Could it be a secret weapon they were working on? No, no, that couldn't be it. If it was then why would the young freshman be so...so..._horrified_, is what it looked like. The boy wasn't comfortable in his own home, which normally meant family problems. Could it be that something within the family was disturbed? Hopefully not but it was starting to seem that way.

That is, until Lancer remembered just how tidy it was in there. The only thing out of place was a couch cushion; that wasn't enough to say much. Still...why did the house feel so wrong? Daniel wouldn't have acted the way he did if everything was fine. The boy was tired, hungry, and now he was scared of something. No, scratch that. The boy was exhausted, starving, and terrified. He couldn't move earlier because he was petrified. Suddenly his sister came in and he had become a well-oiled machine. The strangest thing was, he had shown absolutely no hesitation in tailing her up to her room.

What was happening with that poor boy? He lacked the mirth he used to be so full of. Yes, his mother had died, but this had been going for a long time now. He should've had enough time to recover from it but be unable to sleep or eat from it? Perhaps the sleep problem could be attributed to nightmares but there was nothing to explain his eating problem. His father had even cooked pasta, probably in hopes that Daniel would eat it. Yet he wouldn't eat it...

And even more curious was the scream he had hear before entering the house. "I'm not"... What did that mean? Perhaps he had misheard it or was even reading too much into it. Yes...yes, that sounded legitimate enough.

...No. It didn't.

And he would ask the boy tomorrow after school.

And he wouldn't let him leave until he got answers.


	4. Mistaken Truth

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 4

-Mistaken Truth-

_"A mistaken truth is not always a lie."  
_

Lancer kept a very steady, firm eye on the freshman. The boy was smiling and it would look convincing to the naked eye. Lancer's eye, however, was well trained and keen. Most of his students thought he missed some of the things they did or the emotions in their young, vulnerable eyes. Many of them held cheerful feelings such as pride from a good grade or glee from an upcoming slumber party. Perhaps a birthday, a boy (or girl but this particular emotion mostly applied to the girls in this school), or something as simple as a new friend.

Daniel used to have it all. The Manson girl, Sam... He used to be extraordinarily cheerful around her. And his other friend, Mr. Foley... Why, he seemed such an important part of the trio. Normally they were great friends; honest, loyal, and protective of one another. To be put bluntly, they were like family. And what an amazing family they made. If they all looked the same, it would be easy to believe that they were triplets despite their completely different personalities.

But now...now Daniel was pushing them away. Whether it was purposeful or accidental, the teacher didn't know, but point being he was slowly straining that friendship. He had always considered that kind of bond unbreakable but now it made Lancer wonder whether or not that bond really was that tight. He couldn't help but think that maybe the boy had a fight (or even was _still_ fighting) with them.

The boy smiled all through class...all through school...all through everything... But there was something about that smile. Not only was it forced, but it was definitely there to hide something. It was his mask, his disguise. He wanted everyone to believe he was the same person he used to be when in reality, he was much, much worse.

This poor boy had declined over the months. Keeping a steady C was shocking to Lancer but at least it showed he was studying, resting, and eating. But now... The teacher sighed heavily. His grades weren't just slipping, they weren't just in the toilet; they were frightening. Now, combined with the cocktail of his obvious starvation and deprivation of sleep (or any form of rest, on that note), it was clear that there was a problem so much bigger. He hadn't been able to place a decent finger on it yet, nor did he come close to it. But he did have ideas that kept forming in his head; each thought brought more intricate details as to what exactly was happening to the once shining star that was his pupil.

As he watched Daniel move from one class in the hallway, Lancer briskly walked out and put a stern hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Daniel," he said stiffly. "I need to talk to you."

The freshman's shoulder was boney and he could literally feel every bone connected to it. The scapula, the clavicle, and everything else (including the very feeble muscles). And it was more than enough to scare him. This child had so much potential at one time; now he had nothing, not even a spark, a _glint_ of life. He looked so fragile; about as delicate as a leaf in autumn. It was so extreme that Lancer refused to tighten his grip for fear that Daniel could crumble apart at any moment.

"Yes, sir. After school?" the boy said.

Said student's voice was scratchy and dry, a giveaway that he was badly dehydrated. Thankfully, Lancer always kept a small stock of water bottles in a cabinet so he wouldn't have to interrupt his work to get a drink. Daniel needed one far more than his teacher.

"No," Lancer said, his voice still stiff and unwavering. "Now."

The teacher put a gentle hand on his pupil's back and led him slowly into the classroom. He had to walk slow so the child could keep pace with him. He was just _that_ lacking in energy.

"But, Mr. Lancer, my next class...!" Daniel protested.

Lancer shook his head calmly and said, "Don't worry about it. I'll be sure to inform your teacher of the reason for your absence and give you a slip. If any trouble should rise, it'll be entirely directed to me."

He drew up a chair in front of his desk, sat the boy down, and dug into his cabinet to hand him a bottle of water.

His eyes, no brighter than they were yesterday, fell on the teacher and Lancer began the conversation once he saw his student chugging it down; half the bottle was already empty.

"There's something very troubling going on, isn't there, Daniel?"

The boy could only swallow in return.

That action was all that was needed to confirm Lancer's suspicions.

"I already have so many ideas in my head right now, but I'm afraid I can't figure this out myself. Now, your father-"

The boy tensed quite noticeably at the mention of his parent.

Lancer cleared his throat and took a mental note of what he'd just seen.

He continued. "Now, your father (at this, Daniel tensed again) was informing me of your strange behaviors yesterday when I came to check on you. He said your mother...well, he said she passed away. I know for a fact that you've been depressed lately-"

"N-No! Mr. Lancer, I'm fine! I just...I need a little more sleep," he panicked. "I swear, I w-won't be tired tomorrow, I-I'll get a lot of rest like you told me to, you know, to make up f-for yesterday, and..."

The teacher didn't listen to him ramble on about how he was going to get sleep, he _promised._ No...it was the way he spoke that got Mr. Lancer's attention. He was stuttering on words that normally one wouldn't stutter on. That was a sign that something was happening. There were already so many signs that Daniel didn't even know he was showing and this simply added to that endless list.

"Daniel," Lancer cut him off. He let his voice soften several octaves before continuing with, "Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything you _need_ to talk about?"

The freshman rapidly shook his head.

Adrenaline, the teacher noted. He was inwardly starting to panic, which meant Lancer was on the right track.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "If this is about your mother, I can arrange for a therapist to come in and-"

"NO!" he screamed, shocking Lancer silent. "I...I mean...a-a therapist seems a little extreme...that's all..."

Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he replied, "Then, Daniel, let me ask you a few questions. Are there any other children involved?"

The boy's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Sir...?"

"A gang-related problem, Mr. Fenton?" he clarified.

"What? N-No, that's not it- W-Well...I mean, there aren't any problems to begin with, but..." Lancer smirked in triumph as his student became unable to complete his sentence. Yet another sign of trouble.

"Is it peer pressure? Stress? Too much work? I can assign less if this is what it's doing to you," the teacher offered.

"Oh, no, no, not at all! If you can, I should probably be assigned _more._ I need to pull up my grades; I know they're not very good."

"Smoking, Mr. Fenton?" Although to be perfectly fair, there was no trace of nicotine in the entire building, let alone this one young boy.

"What? Of course not."

The boy shifted and Lancer assumed he was getting close. "...Drugs?"

Daniel moved his eyes, looking at everything and everywhere but in his teacher's direction.

"Daniel, is it drugs?" he repeated.

This time there was fear in the boy's eyes, as though he had been cornered before being caught in a trap.

The last thing Lancer wanted was for this child to feel imprisoned in his classroom, but something had to be done.

"Daniel, I'm still waiting for an answer. Are you ingesting or inhaling any drugs? Maybe even through method of injection?"

He noticed how much his student's breathing had escalated. It was another sign...but unfortunately... Unfortunately this meant that his idea was right. Daniel was on drugs, which perfectly explained his behavior, his weight loss, his thirst, and his restlessness. His depression was probably caused by both his mother's death and "coming down" (as the kids say it) from the drug.

"What are you taking?" he asked softly, trying to encourage his student to tell him at _least_ that he _was_ on drugs.

The boy's body began to tremble and he grew paler than his new "normal" skin color.

"Danny?" For Daniel to become so squirmy meant that he had guessed correctly.

The boy's head shot up and he looked his teacher in the eye. "I-I think I should go."

"No, stay seated. I won't judge you no matter what the answer," he assured.

Tears were soon threatening to spill from Daniel's eyes. Too choked up to speak, he only shook his head.

"Daniel, please," the teacher tried. "Please just tell me what's going on."

He only shook his head again, this time more vigorously.

"Will you tell me if I promise not to tell anyone?"

The freshman looked at him and his lip quivered. He bit it in an effort to keep it still. In turn, it left an opening for his ragged breathing to be heard.

"I can help you," he said tenderly.

There was a reason a boy like Daniel would be on drugs. It wasn't peer pressure; he was never into popularity of sorts and always set higher standards for himself than that.

"D-"

Lancer's words were cut off by several broken sobs. Daniel dropped his head into his hands, defeated, and shook violently.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I just...I-I...I...!"

Lancer was quick to run to the boy's side to comfort him as he began hyperventilating.

"I-I'm sorry...! I...just...! I cou-couldn't...t-take...it anymore...!" he gasped out.

"Take what? What couldn't you take?"

"Mine...! My... It was... It was my...mine...! I did...it...!"

The freshman brought his head from his palms, giving Lancer the chance to see endless tears cascade down his face, not unlike two miniature waterfalls.

"Okay, okay, Daniel, look at me," the teacher said somewhat calmly. Staying calm was easy when one of his students all but admitted he was on drugs, then started hyperventilating while talking jargon. "Breathe, Daniel, breathe; it'll be okay."

The boy weakly stood up, still gasping for air, and tried to make it out of the room.

It all but terrified Lancer when he suddenly collapsed halfway to the door.

The teacher hastily ran to his aid. His breathing was already evening out, which meant he hadn't tripped. He was unconscious; Lancer had never had anything like this happen before.

But he needed to be more careful around the boy from now on, at least until he got off whatever drug was being repeatedly introduced into his system. He could pose a dangerous threat if that drug made him do something wild out of rage. However, that never seemed to be the case. All it seemed to be doing was further depressing him. It seemed as though he was the only one to be affected by it; he had certainly never shown any hint of a threat to the student body... He would be kept under a careful watch, but not expelled. There was a reason he was on drugs. Something bigger was happening than just this.

Right now, though, it looked like the boy had merely given in to his lack of sleep and dropping weight. He would be fine with some rest and now that Daniel _was_ finally asleep, it was important to let him stay that way.

Lancer didn't dare move the boy for fear of waking him. Instead, he turned off all the lights and closed the blinds. He turned off his computer screen and sat back in his desk. He couldn't have Daniel running off when and if he woke up; there was still too much he didn't know. On top of that, this boy would be forced to eat under Lancer's watch. Just one apple would be enough, so long as it got anything in his stomach.

It was actually hard for the boy to do either. He was too tired to eat and too hungry to sleep. At least his body finally chose one of the two.


	5. Methamphetamine

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 5

-Methamphetamine-

_"The fear felt by another easily becomes a disease."  
_

The boy opened his eyes after an hour and a half. It was immediately clear to the teacher that he was dazed. So, while he had the chance, he went over and knelt down beside him, looking over his eyes. The drug had long worn off; his pupils were of normal size (the only reason they were larger was because of the darkness, but in light they would retract; whereas they would remain enormous if still on the drug).

At least that meant the freshman was being logical while talking to him. He never actually seemed drugged during school hours, but that didn't mean he wasn't taking it at home or possibly a few hours before school started.

Daniel closed his eyes again and slowly moved one hand to brush his cheek.

"You weren't drooling, Daniel," the teacher said.

His eyes fluttered back open and looked at him.

"Mr. Lancer...?" he weakly mumbled. Then, quickly scanning the room, he jumped to his knees and backed away.

Suddenly the teacher saw insecurity and terror in the boy and made a gesture, slowly raising his hand as if to stop him from panicking.

"Daniel, please relax; I haven't uttered a word," he said evenly.

The boy's breath hitched just once, almost like a small hiccup, and he dryly replied, "A-About what?"

Lancer let out a slow breath. "Your actions were clear enough to give me the answer I wanted to my question about drug usage. You panicked after that and tried to run but you never even made it to the door. I told you prior to your...well, _response_ that I would keep this between us and I will uphold that statement. I know you're not dangerous, Daniel; however, in light of the newly acquired knowledge that you're currently using an illegal substance, I will keep you under my strict watch, understand?"

Daniel nodded but the feelings of guilt and shame were still very much present in his eyes (aka, the window to the soul).

"You will not be expelled for this and I'll see to it that you aren't punished should your secret get out," the teacher continued. "In return, though, I would like you to answer one thing that body language can't tell me: what drug is it, or are there multiple ones?"

He allowed the boy to take several deep breaths to calm himself before answering, "I would really rather not say, sir. I...I never wanted you to know in the first place."

Lancer helped the freshman to his feet and said, "I'm quite aware that I had you backed into a corner. I can't physically _force_ you to tell me, but I'm positive that someone else in your life would know about this. I can just as easily find out which person but that may arouse suspicion on your part. I would think it best if you told me instead of putting up another mask and telling me it's fine."

Daniel stared blankly for a moment before biting his lower lip. For several minutes he debated on telling the teacher, but thankfully decided to spare farfetched rumors and unnecessary drama to the rest of the school.

"Ecstasy...sir..." he croaked.

Lancer frowned, but this was the kind of answer he had been bracing himself for. After all, it could've been something worse, such as meth or heroine.

"MDMA?" he asked in order to gain proper clarification.

Hanging his head, Daniel nodded.

It did fit his behavior and the reason behind his skeletal frame. MDMA could cause loss of appetite, hence the boney figure. Another side effect was troubles with sleep, which explained why he couldn't get any rest (although it did scare him that Daniel's body actually had to _force_ itself to shut down, if only for a relatively short time period).

The boy abruptly jerked his head up and slightly tilted it to the side.

Lancer waited patiently to see what he would do.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice serious.

The teacher listened carefully for any noise and looked around for any people or things...but found and heard nothing.

"It's been annoying me all week!" he said, frustration beginning to surface. "What _is_ it?"

"What's what?"

The freshman ran a hand through his hair and replied, "_That_; it sounds like tiny footsteps. How can you not hear it?"

Lancer frowned and tried to listen for this mysterious noise his student kept talking about. But again, the room was completely silent. The idea that MDMA could be messing with his brain to an extent of psychological dysfunction pushed itself into his head. And as much as he didn't want to believe it...

He calmly walked away from the boy, who was now glaring at the wall, and turned on his computer screen. The web browser was still up. He typed in "mdma" and a slew of sites flooded the page.

He read the short summaries on each one and, upon reaching the sixth one, decided to click it. The site was brought up in a new tab and started out with the basics, like the common street names for MDMA (ecstasy, hug drug, beans, etc.) and its chemical composition. The first part of it was skipped as he scrolled down, having no such interest in the various names it was called or the complicated description of various other drugs that were similar to MDMA, but not the same.

As he scrolled down further and started on a new section, he began reading about the things he was truly wanting to learn about.

_"MDMA is a synthetic, psychoactive drug that acts as both a stimulant and psychedelic. It produces an energizing effect, as well as distortions in time and perception and enhanced enjoyment from tactile experiences._

_It exerts its primary effects in the brain on neurons that use chemical serotonin to communicate with other neurons. The serotonin system plays an important role in regulating mood, aggression, sexual activity, sleep, and sensitivity to pain._

_Research in animals indicated that MDMA is neurotoxic; whether or not this is also true in humans is currently an area of investigation. MDMA can also be dangerous to health and, on rare occasions, lethal._

_For some people, MDMA can be addictive. A survey of young adult and adolescent MDMA users found that 43 percent of those who reported MDMA use met the accepted diagnostic criteria for dependence, as evidenced by continued use despite knowledge of physical or psychological harm, withdrawal effects, and tolerance/diminished response, and 34 percent met the criteria for drug abuse. Almost 60 percent of people who use MDMA report withdrawal symptoms, including fatigue, loss of appetite, depressed feelings, and trouble concentrating._

_EFFECTS OF MDMA USE:_

_Physical Effects: In high doses, MDMA can interfere with the body's ability to regulate temperature. On rare but unpredictable occasions, this can lead to a sharp increase in body temperature, known as hyperthermia, resulting in liver, kidney, cardiovascular system failure, and death._

_Because MDMA can interfere with its own metabolism, potentially harmful levels can be reached by repeated drug use within short intervals._

_Users of MDMA face many of the same risks as users of other stimulants such as cocaine and amphetamines. These include increases in heart rate and blood pressure, a special risk for people with circulatory problems or heart disease, and other symptoms such as muscle tension, involuntary teeth clenching, nausea, blurred vision, faintness, and chills or sweating._

_Psychological Effects: These can include confusion, depression, sleep problems, drug craving, and severe anxiety. These problems can occur during and for days or weeks after taking MDMA._

_Neurotoxicity: Research in animals links MDMA exposure to long-term damage to neurons that are involved in mood, thinking, and judgment. A study in nonhuman primates showed that exposure to MDMA for only 4 days caused damage to serotonin nerve terminals that was evident 6 to 7 years later. While similar neurotoxicity has not been definitively shown in humans, the wealth of animal research indicating MDMA's damaging properties suggests that MDMA is not a safe drug for human consumption."_

There was more to the site, such as possible drug impurity and the percentage of users per grade, but it gave him enough information already to realize the full extent of the dangers his student was already in.

Still, Lancer craved more knowledge about this. He closed the tab and searched for another website. The eighth one won the honor of being pulled up, this time not in a different tab. He began reading.

Again, there was the first part that needed to be skipped as it once more told the chemical structure and other similar drugs and whatnot that he could care less to know about. But it did prove useful when new information was added to his mental list.

_"What does MDMA look like?_

_'Ecstasy' comes in a tablet form that is often imprinted with graphic designs or commercial logos._

_How is it taken?_

_Ecstasy is usually swallowed in pill form, but can also be crushed and snorted, injected, or used in suppository form._

_What are the effects of ecstasy?_

_It is known for its energizing effect, as well as distortions in time and perception and enhanced enjoyment from physical experiences. The effect, per use, lasts from three to four hours. Its popularity grew in the late 1980s in the rave and club scenes and on college campuses because of its reputation for producing high energy and a 'trusting and opened' effect among those who take it. _

_What are the hazards of ecstasy?_

_Ecstasy produces problems similar to those found among amphetamines and cocaine. This can include:_

_-Psychological problems  
__-Confusion_  
_-Depression_  
_-Sleep problems_  
_-Drug craving_  
_-Severe anxiety_  
_-Paranoia_  
_-Psychotic episodes_

_The physical side effects that can occur while taking it can last for weeks. Users often experience muscle tension, involuntary teeth clenching, nausea, blurred vision, rapid eye movement, faintness, and chills or sweating. MDMA is very dangerous for those individuals with circulatory or heart disease, because the drug increases the heart rate and blood pressure. _

_Is ecstasy addictive?_

_Almost 60% of people who use MDMA report withdrawal symptoms, including fatigue, loss of appetite, depressed feelings, and trouble concentrating."_

The symptoms "depression", "severe anxiety", and "psychotic episodes" were both in blue print and underlined, indicating that there was a link attached. Lancer moved the cursor over "psychotic episodes" and clicked. The page changed from an overall information on MDMA to a yahoo answer.

_"When a person has a psychotic episode, they lose contact with reality._

_ They may have false beliefs that are not based in reality (delusions). An example of this may be a person believing they are a reincarnation of a religious figure, such as Jesus._  
_ They may hear, see, smell, taste or feel things that are not there (hallucinations). An example of this may be a person hearing a voice and voices laughing and talking, seeing people they once knew but are dead, smelling smoke, feeling something crawling on their skin, etc_  
_ Their thoughts and speech may be disordered._

_ Each individual goes through something different, and no episode is the same."_

He then went back to the web browser and typed in "psychotic episode". Countless website links appeared. Once more he read through the summaries and once more decided on one. A different tab opened up with an intricate description.

_"A psychotic episode is a period of psychosis that can last varying amounts of time. People in a psychotic episode can experience one or more of the following: hallucinations, thought disorder, and delusions. Hallucinations are sensory experiences that are not grounded in reality, such as hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, or smelling things that are not present._

_One of the key characteristics of a psychotic episode is that the patient experiences a break with reality. People have difficulty separating hallucinations and delusions, believing them to be real, and they may also reject aspects of the real world. This can be traumatic for the patient and can make it difficult for people to communicate with the patient or provide assistance. Someone who genuinely believes that government agents are planning to attack, for example, may reject attempts at assistance, fearing enemy infiltration._

_Psychotic episodes can be emotionally terrifying for the patient and and expose people to the risk of suicide and self harm."_

The word "delusions" had a link attached. He clicked it and, on the same website, it brought up a new page.

_"Sensory hallucinations are seeing or hearing things that aren't there, or seeing or hearing distorted images or sounds. In a way, sensory hallucinations are the brain's credible lies to the eyes or ears. Sensory hallucinations can also affect one's sense of touch, and may include feelings like bugs are crawling all over one's body. Hallucinations are believable, and can be very frightening for those undergoing them._

_Common causes of sensory hallucinations are schizophrenia, PTSD, the manic stage of bipolar disorder and taking drugs with hallucinogenic properties, like LSD. Other prescribed medications like morphine can cause temporary sensory hallucinations. Sensory hallucinations may also occur when one is intoxicated or during withdrawal from alcoholism. High fevers, dementia, severe head injury, or serious illnesses like end stage kidney failure may cause sensory hallucinations. Long term use of some stimulants like cocaine and crack are also indicated in sensory hallucinations._

_Most often, sensory hallucinations are transitory. Those experiencing them know afterwards that what they saw or heard was not real. In some cases, as with schizophrenia and dementia, people have difficulty distinguishing between what is real since sensory hallucinations are frequent._

_Some sensory hallucinations involve seeing or hearing people or voices. This is most common with schizophrenia and dementia. Most other hallucinations involve seeing or hearing distortions of what is actually there. In a distorted hallucination, a person might look at a light bulb and see butterflies emanating from it. A person might hear a song and be convinced it was much slower or faster than actually was the case."_

Lancer finally sat back in his chair and observed Daniel. He was still looking at the wall, his expression showing irritation. Wasn't it only last week that the boy had come in apologizing for tracking mud throughout the halls despite the fact that his shoes were completely dry and it hadn't been raining for a good eight days straight? And about four days earlier, he had been swatting at the air around his head, grumbling something incomprehensible. Two days ago he had been flicking invisible somethings off his books and blowing on his desk.

Those must've been psychotic episodes. Thankfully MDMA seemed to be a euphoric drug and probably wouldn't cause the boy to act threateningly. The worst it seemed to do, in terms of the psychotic episodes it created, was just an annoyance and nothing more; obviously nothing to enrage the freshman.

"It's not real, Daniel," he said, causing the boy to move his gaze from the wall and to his teacher.

A look of confusion soon spread across his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He then pointed toward the wall. "It's right there, clear as daylight!"

"It's not there. It's a hallucination," the teacher explained.

"I'm not crazy. Listen closer; it's in the wall."

Lancer did as the boy said, but only to appease him. Naturally, he heard nothing. There were no tiny footsteps running around the inside of the wall like he was told. There were no sounds at all, in fact, except for one person walking by outside the classroom. Those were the only footsteps to be heard and they weren't tiny.

"Daniel, do you hear these noises often?" he asked.

His student nodded in response and replied, "Yeah, all the time."

"What noises do you hear?"

"Well for one, those little footsteps have been bugging me all week long. But the noises are always different."

"And you haven't once thought that it might be a hallucination?"

The boy looked down for a second. "A lot of them are. I can't tell with some of them."

"Do you think _I'm_ a hallucination?"

He shook his head. "No. Well...I don't think so. Are you?"

So then he _did_ have doubts on whether he was seeing reality or not... That was either a good sign or a bad sign. It was good that he could tell the difference, but it was bad that he had trouble telling the difference. But Lancer had to remind himself that even though he wasn't talking like it, Daniel was still hearing the "tiny footsteps" (he kept glancing over to the wall every now and then), which meant that he was still in a psychotic episode. If Lancer didn't know about his student's drug problem, he would never have been able to tell that Daniel was hearing nonexistent noises, convinced for the time being that what he was hearing was real.

And if the facts on the websites were true, Daniel probably wouldn't want to accept help or even admit that it was a serious problem.

**A/N**

**Wow. Already the fifth chapter. I was expecting this to be four at most but... Well, maybe it'll be a little longer after all. Hope everyone liked the fast(er) update.**


	6. Acting It Out

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 6

-Acting It Out-

_"Sometimes pain is the gateway to an open eye."_

"Daniel, do you have any of these pills here at school?" Lancer asked softly, so as not to upset said character.

The boy blanched and opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. It was all the answer Lancer needed to know the truth.

"Where are they at?" he continued.

"I-I don't have any!" he cried, clearly shaken by the question.

"Can you go get them for me? I'm not confiscating them, don't worry. I would just...like to see the effects it has on you." In other words, the estimated amount of MDMA he took per use.

His breathing grew heavy and irregular. "Mr. Lancer, please, I don't want to do this; you can't see me like that, j-just ask Jazz, she'll know, she can tell you everything, just don't make me-"

"Danny..." Lancer warned.

The boy shook with an emotion he couldn't quite make out. It was familiar, but he just couldn't place his finger on what it was. Not that it mattered, of course, but from now on he would be documenting his student's behavior to see whether he had better days or worse days and if it was in fact from the drug itself or his mother, or even both (which would undoubtedly cause a severe and prolonged period of depression). The documentation would start with seeing Daniel take whatever dosage he normally took, which probably (_hopefully_) wasn't much. It shouldn't be considering he had never seen Daniel act out of line.

"S-Sir..." His voice cracked with the unspoken pleas to leave him be and drop the subject altogether.

"No, Danny. Now," he replied with a grounded, strong voice.

It was a tone he very rarely used on his students. The freshman knew immediately to obey and reluctantly led his teacher out the door and into the hallways, where the atmosphere only grew more weighted by the second. Lancer knew well that the boy probably thought he _wanted_ to see it, that he wanted to laugh and blackmail him. In truth, he would hate seeing anyone go through something like acting on drug use, their will and reasoning diminished. Daniel was such a kindhearted young man; he was the last person the teacher would ever want to see on drugs (let alone how he acted on them).

However, it was imperative that he be able to identify signs of any remnants in the boy's system, any behaviors that might indicate he was still acting more on the MDMA than on his own conscience. This way he could try to help him realize that what he was doing wasn't normal. Perhaps then he would begin to think twice about using the drug again, and hopefully stop.

The pair reached Daniel's locker and as the boy began unlocking the combination, he explained that he never did this during school hours and the only reason he even brought any of it to school was because it gave him comfort for reasons unknown. If that wasn't a dependence, Lancer didn't know what was.

The locker clicked and Daniel opened the door. He pulled out his backpack and rummaged through it, soon pulling out a small plastic bag with four round tablets of assorted colors. Each one had a peace sign imprinted on it.

Daniel looked down at them and said, "I don't _really_ have to take one of these...right?"

Lancer shook his head in response. "You do."

Sighing in defeat, the boy opened the bag and fished out all of the four pills.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a small voice.

The teacher nodded, not wanting to watch his student swallow such a substance that was considered unsafe for human consumption.

He produced a short whine of discomfort before deciding it best to simply do it and get it over with. He popped all four pills in his mouth and swallowed, probably using his saliva to wash it down.

"Jazz says you shouldn't touch me after I take these. She usually gives me a pillow instead," he mumbled.

"Is your sister the only one that knows about this?" Lancer asked.

The boy nodded. "She said she wouldn't tell anyone."

"Why should no one touch you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know; she won't tell me."

"I'm curious as to how long it takes for the effects to, as you kids say it, 'kick in'," the teacher said, almost _asking_ his student.

But when Daniel didn't answer he had to assume the boy had never bothered to time it, and therefore didn't know. The time itself didn't worry him; it was the severity of the effects. He honestly couldn't bring himself to ask about the dosage. It would be tough enough just to watch him...

Lancer ushered the boy back into his classroom. It was still dark and unfortunately, their eyes had readjusted to the bright light of the halls. Aside from the computer screen and the slips of light coming through the blinds, there wasn't much to see.

He turned the lights on and had Daniel sit down at the chair still at his desk. It hadn't been moved since the freshman had passed out. It wouldn't move for the next several minutes. Having been taken orally, the drug would take more time to be absorbed into the body.

While he was waiting (both patiently because he didn't want to see this, and impatiently because he wanted to get it over with), Lancer eyed Daniel thoroughly. The boy reminded him so much of a stick figure... It was both sickening and heartbreaking. Honestly, he looked so frail the teacher was scared that a simple high five would break his arm. When out of sight, the image seemed silly and absurd...because it was. But when seen, Daniel's appearance would put into mind a dark thought. Death seemed to be eminent for the boy.

Not unexpectedly, the freshman was, just as his teacher, waiting for the drug to take over. He kept looking around (clearly nervous) and fiddling with his thumbs.

Just watching him brought a few new questions to mind, but it would have to wait until... How long was it supposed to last? Two hours? Three? Hm. Well, no matter the case, it would have to wait until the drug wore off and Daniel had enough logic to tell him things such as why he had even started. Scratch that; why he had ever _considered_ it. There was a slim possibility that it was an accidental addiction. The pills were obviously meant to look like children's candy; maybe he had mistaken it for candy and eaten some, thus beginning his addiction. It would've caused him to experience that energizing and refreshed feeling, something he wouldn't have had when his mother passed on. If that was the case then of course he would want to feel like that again.

And again, and again, and again. Somewhere along the way he had taken it too far and had unwittingly gained a dependence. There was no possible way that he didn't know his health was deteriorating; although he would probably pin the blame on anything _but_ the drug. Only because of his addiction could that be seen as normal.

It took less time for the drug to take effect than originally thought. Daniel's pupils were already trying to swallow the rest of his eye. Lancer knew that eventually his eyes would look like deep pits of black nothingness. They would be empty, but his body would soon be crackling with energy.

"How are you feeling right now?" the teacher asked, try to keep all hints of concern out of his voice so it would sound more casual and comfortable.

The boy leaned his head to the side until it rested on his shoulder and smiled, looking at the wall opposite of the "tiny footsteps". He snickered.

"Daniel?"

He brought his head up and looked at his teacher; his pupils were still growing.

"You know you just guessed my name?"

His voice sounded so...well...to be put bluntly, _normal_. It wasn't at all like Lancer thought it would be: sluggish, probably slurred, and sounding completely off from its normal tone. Of course, this could just be the beginning. The effects weren't in full yet; they were just now hitting him. Later on might prove Lancer's expectations true.

"I already knew your name," Lancer said. "Now, how are you feeling?"

The freshman laughed a strange, squeaky laugh.

"Oh, I'm just... I'm... You know, I don't really know. Just feeling something I guess," he replied.

"Perhaps...euphoric?"

By now his pupils were huge and only the very edges of his irises could be seen. They weren't the normal baby blue eyes anymore; now they were dark pools outlined by a tiny thread of blue.

He snapped his fingers as if he was remembering a forgotten idea. "Yes! Euphoria! That is such a weird word. Seriously, say it with me. Eu-phor-i-a. Doesn't it sound like some kind of nebula? The 'Euphoria Nebula'. Like, you're picturing it as some image- No, wait. Um, movie? No... Video! Yeah, video; like you're picturing it as some kind of space video in your head with a techno song playing in the background? With maybe a little alien spaceship flying by?"

He flattened out a palm and used it as the demonstration of said imaginary spaceship, gliding his hand through the air with a speed that would make a bystander think he was trying to slice something.

A sort of slap was heard as the "spaceship" flung itself onto Daniel's other arm and rapidly forced its way downward.

It took Lancer by surprise and, remembering how the boy had specifically told him that he wasn't supposed to be touched (though he had never said anything about what the outcome would be if that were to happen) when he was in full effect of the drug, wondered if the slap was intentional or not. He might slap someone away if they tried to touch him (if MDMA messed him up that badly). It did get Lancer curious as to why his sister told him he wasn't to be touched, as well as why she usually gave him a pillow.

Daniel repeated the act, this time much more gently than before. There was no doubt that it had to do with that horrible drug, that "ecstasy" as it was most often referred to. It was only then that the teacher noticed slight and very frequent tremors in him. Naturally, his first thought was that the boy was having a mild tonic-clonic seizure. Almost on impulse, he stood forward. Needless to say he was beyond relieved when he saw the boy's leg bouncing uncontrollably (probably what the websites meant when they said "an energizing feeling").

Lancer immediately realized what a perfect opportunity this was to show his student what he looked like after he swallowed those pills. He remembered having confiscated a video camera (and a very high-quality one at that) from one of his students. It was a good while back, though, and Lancer wasn't sure whether he gave it back or not. Thankfully all confiscated items were kept in one drawer, so he didn't have to roam about his workspace looking for it. If he still had the camera, it would be in that particular drawer.

He opened a drawer on the lower left-hand side of his desk and moved a few objects around. The camera was almost instantly found and Lancer quickly pulled it out and turned it on, facing the lens toward Daniel. The boy was leaning back in his chair now with his feet pushing against the edge of the desk.

The teacher frowned but kept the camera focused on his student.

"Daniel, don't do that; you're going to fall!" he said.

As if to prove Lancer's point, the boy accidentally pushed the desk too hard and promptly fell backwards in his chair.

The teacher jumped up and ran around the side of his desk to aid the freshman. He almost forgot about the camera, but still held it to a point where the entire scene could be shown in full detail. He had to remember to stay calm about this (and _during_ this). The sites had explained about psychotic episodes and how traumatic they could be for the person experiencing them. They also explained that MDMA induced psychotic episodes. Panicking while Daniel was possibly going through one right now might send the child into a severe delusion.

Lancer wanted to help Daniel up but stopped when his hand was halfway stretched toward the boy. He had been told to refrain from touching Daniel while he was "stoned" (another odd slang that these kids had thought up). Part of him wanted so badly to give into that temptation, that curiosity to find out what would happen and why it had become a rule made by not Daniel himself, but his sister Jazz.

It actually brought up another question: why would Jasmine, of all people, hide her younger brother's secret instead of getting help? It hardly seemed like her but... Well...it was a strong possibility that Daniel was having another episode. He seemed to have them a lot even when Lancer didn't know it. Or maybe Daniel just couldn't think straight at the time (the websites _did_ say that one of the effects of MDMA was "psychological problems"). What if no one else knew? For all he knew, the boy could've been talking about something only in his head.

It wasn't a very doubtful idea. Now that Lancer knew about his student's drug problem, he knew that Daniel had been seeing and hearing things that weren't there. There was no mud on the floor, there were no flies (or whatever he had been swatting at) around his head, there was no dust (or whatever he had been blowing at) on his textbooks, and there certainly were no footsteps in the wall. But it was real to him; he genuinely believed something was crawling around in the wall. He had genuinely thought that he had tracked mud throughout the building (and had even apologized for it), that there were things flying around his head, that something was on his textbook. Daniel had been seeing and hearing it the whole time but had never let on.

"Are you okay?" Lancer asked softly, careful not to upset the boy.

He nodded. "Did you see that? The chair wanted to hug gravity. Can you believe it flipped me over just to do that? It could've just told me to get out; I would've gotten out. That's a mean chair."

He didn't seem to be hallucinating (not yet at least), just lacking the ability to think logically; but that was to be expected given the circumstances.

"You know I swore never to do this in school?" the boy continued. "Jazz says it can get pretty bad. She usually gives me a pillow after I take the pills. Then she'll lock me in my room until the ecstasy wears off. Does it really get that bad? How bad does it get? Scale of 1 to 10. Wait. Am I hallucinating right now?" He giggled. "That would be so awesome! Can you believe I'm talking to imaginary people? You're an imaginary person."

"No, I'm real-"

"No, you're imaginary," he stated. "I know you are. Hey! Cool! Is that a weird radio?" He pointed to the camera Lancer still held. "Can it play music? What stations does it pick up?" He gasped. "What if it was from outer space? Oh, oh! And it would've been sent in some kind of meteorite, right? You know how aliens are known for their rocks and such."

He rolled to his stomach and picked himself up (about time he got off the floor). Then, the same odd thing happened with his arm again as it swept quickly over his other arm.


	7. Full Effect

The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 7

-Full Effect-

_"One often has to stand back to see _anything_."_

"Why are you doing that thing with your arm?" Lancer asked.

Daniel grinned as he looked up at his teacher and replied, "It feels good. And then if you just run your hands through your hair... You know what I mean?"

Before Lancer could even think about that, the boy abruptly looked over his shoulder.

The teacher kept trying to race back to what the websites had said. Psychotic episodes, energizing feeling, hallucinations, delusions... And enhanced enjoyment from tactile experiences! So _that_ was why rubbing himself felt so good to the boy.

"Can you believe this? I'm actually _talking_ to myself. Doesn't that make me sound crazy?" He snickered and rubbed his arm again. "I'm _stoned!_"

Lancer sighed heavily. Stoned, the slang used by the younger generation meaning, "I've given myself up to synthetic chemicals". Daniel certainly had and just knowing that broke the teacher's heart. A young boy who held so much promise, so much potential to become the astronaut he'd always wanted to be...had simply given up on life. Why? The freshman was such a bright young man. And then he started coming to school exhausted. Back then, though, at least he was getting a few hours' sleep each day. Now he came in completely brain dead, not at all unlike the zombies seen in movies. It was like he had no more learning capacity. He was so distracted and hungry all the time. It was scary to see the boy walk in like that.

He had the decency to clean himself up (he always came to school looking anything but "stoned" aside from his alarming physical appearance) but the only thing that could cover the dark bags under his eyes would be an inch-thick layer of makeup. Of course, he would refuse to wear makeup, as he was a male.

But it did kill Lancer to see his favorite student (of all the others in the class, there was just something more to Daniel) so..._lost_. Until he had swallowed those tablets, the only emotions the boy held were negative, as if he had simply lost all drive and will to live. Without his mother, the poor boy probably felt as if his life was empty or meaningless.

But now that the drugs had taken control, he was overflowing with false happiness.

But just as stated, it was false; it would only last for the length of time that the drug was still in effect. After that, he would revert to a depressed and hurting child.

But why? Why would he be doing this to himself? Was there something going on in his life that was just so horrible he couldn't take it and decided to turn to drugs for comfort? No, that was crazy talk- No. No, that was genius. Daniel's life had been disrupted, causing something inside him to break. As if to fix that broken piece, he had searched for a form of comfort; something he could turn to when things got rough. Well, that something was found in the form of drugs. It was anything but healthy, but in his mind it was a good thing that made him happy. He didn't seem to mind the depression it brought with it. It only gave him a reason to use the drug again.

Daniel took a few steps back and stared straight ahead.

"What's happening to the building?" he mumbled. He made wavy lines with his fingers and continued, "It's like...wumble wumble...vwooommmm..." He trailed off so he could look at his hands as though they were the eighth wonder of the world. "Woah..." he breathed.

And _now_ the drug was in full effect. He was no doubt hallucinating. Just the way he kept looking at everything, eyes wide with nothing but interest... There was, somehow, a spark in his eyes that used to be there but just...wasn't. It had taken _drugs_ to make him feel at least a little like his old self... The question was, why? Only Daniel could answer that.

Or Jazz... This, from the looks of it, this could go on for hours, and even after the drug wore off, he would still have hallucinations (mild ones, granted, but hallucinations nonetheless).

"They can move everything but themselves..." the boy whispered.

He slowly leaned his head forward and twitched the tip of his index finger. Amazement washed over him and he smiled.

"Dude... It moved..." He smiled. "I don't...I don't even know how I'm still on my feet!"

Lancer perked a brow in question but just as quickly shook his curiosity away. The boy was on drugs. He had no will; no actual conscience anymore... What made him do this to himself? Why had he chosen to repeatedly replace a smart young man with an idiot druggie who didn't even know what fingers were?

**A/N**

**OH GOD I WAS LISTENING TO THE NYAN CAT FOR TEN HOURS! LITERALLY! I had a dream, you know what it was about? A poptart singing, NYAN NYAN NYAN! OVER AND OVER! OMG IT'S IN MY HEAD! D': I took my rage toward the Nyan Cat out on Danny. Danny took it all. GOD IT'S STILL SINGING IN MY HEAD! DX If the update is pure crap, blame the Nyan Cat. Count this as half a chapter. The other half's on its way... God-awful Nyan Cat... X(  
**


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